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Normale Version: Lunt, George: A Statesman
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A Statesman

Stanch at thy post, to meet life’s common doom,
It scarce seems death, to die as thou hast died;
Thy duty done, thy truth, strenght, courage, tried,
And all things ripe for the fulfilling tomb!

A crown would mock thy hearse’s sable gloom,
Whose virtues raised thee higher than a throne,
Whose faults were erring nature’s, not his own, -
Such be thy sentence, writ with fame’s bright plume,

Amongst the good and great; for thou wast great,
In thought, word, deed, - like mightiest ones of old, -
Full of the honest truth which makes men bold,

Wise, pure, firm, just; - the noblest Roman’s state
Became not more a ruler of the free,
Than thy plain life, high thoughts, and matchless constancy!